


I Drive Your Truck

by UndeservingHero



Category: Ed Edd n Eddy
Genre: Five Steps to Grief, KevEdd - Freeform, M/M, Marine!Kevin, Mourning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-05
Updated: 2013-10-05
Packaged: 2017-12-28 11:21:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/991443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UndeservingHero/pseuds/UndeservingHero
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are five steps to mourning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Drive Your Truck

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by Lee Brice's I Drive Your Truck. I'm not really a country fan, but it came of Spotify and I almost choked. I really really hate writing sad things, but it hit close to home. I was sobbing the entire time I wrote this. This is kind of a letter.
> 
> If you find death and military in anyway triggering, please do not read this. I love you all too much to hurt you.

"Death ends a life, not a relationship."

~Mitch Albom

They say there are five steps to grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance.

I'm working on number four.

Six years we spent together, were married for four.

Before that, we spent our entire childhood together. I can't remember a moment without you.

Six months ago, you left, promising you would come home with a smile on your face.

You lied.

You were off fighting an old man's war and were killed in action. I got the house call and your dog tags in the mail five months ago. But it feels like yesterday.

Sometimes, I can barely breathe because it burns too much to inhale.

I wear those fucking dog tags just so I can pretend that you're still around. Their soft clinking provides little comfort though.

My mother asked me yesterday if I've been to your grave lately. Honestly, I know I'm a coward, but I just can't bear to go there and see your name carved in granite on a headstone that wasn't supposed to be used until we were both old and grey.

My God, I was so angry with you. I hated you for leaving me here alone, but I eventually realized that you didn't do it on purpose. You would never do it on purpose.

You saved another man's life with your own.

Then I blamed a God I've never believed in. I, very literally, screamed at the sky down by the old creek. You probably would have just laughed at me. I don't know how many times I begged in the midst of my ranting for this all to be a nightmare.

But I keep waking up alone.

I think you might be proud of me though. I don't cry as much nowadays. I have my moments, but I'm floating instead of sinking.

I'm getting there.

I walked into the garage the other day. Your bike is still right where you left it. I polished it until I could see my face. For some strange reason, when I got near it, I felt better. I knew you would have been happy with me taking care of your baby.

I've decided to get my motorcycle license. I don't want your favourite thing in this world to get rusty from my lack of attention. I want to ride like we used to and feel the wind on my face again.

I think I might be okay if I can ride your bike because it is a part of who you were. And right now, I need you more than ever.

When I consider my situation, sometimes I think "They say there are five stages to grief." But I think they missed one.

Obsession.

Because you're still all I ever think about.

Love always,

Eddward Marrion Vincent-Barr

P.S. I forgive you for lying.


End file.
